2015-09-09

Thank you, Grandfather!
Seldom are the things
you left behind, mostly rubbish

piling in the barn — rusted century-old farming tools, twisted metal, warped wood
under decades of black dust) barren fields
once lavish-green, bent heavy with crop
tirelessly worked from dawn to dusk —
these are not
what have you remembered daily, but the promised
house you built from the ground —
a beating heart-h for the lives of others to happen
the laughs, the sorrows, the many
fruit-bearing trees you planted —

apples cherries pears plums

vines laden with clusters of crazy-sweet pearls
that one fig tree in the corner by the fence

reminds me of you, Grandpa, with fondness
as I pick a fig, fill my palm with season's ripeness
taste the heavens in my mouth, at the root
today tomorrow
each day at harvest I bow to you
and say: Thank you!
.
(and to myself: It's time. You must start planting.)